


Just Breathe

by ocaptainrogers



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drowning, Falling In Love, Hospitals, M/M, Near Death Experience, Romance, Swearing, helpful!jared, hurt!misha, non-au, sick!misha, vomiting and puking, worried!jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocaptainrogers/pseuds/ocaptainrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha is sick – fucking miserable, but refuses to go home and rest instead of finishing up the last scene for the day. His own obstinacy is going to come right back and bite him in the ass and leave him in a much worse shape than he first thought. Luckily, a certain Jensen Ackles comes to his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> A/N   
> when i wrote this i had next to no knowledge about what happens to a human during and after (almost) drowning. some information is wrong due to my not knowing my shit when i made this, and i apologise. i will not go back and fix them though, i don't have time for that, i'm just letting yall know.

“No, I feel fine,” Misha assured the director, Guy Bee, once again. “Really,” he added and tried to force a smile through the grimace as he felt another wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. He swallowed down yet another gulp of bile and cleared his throat.

Guy didn’t look very convinced, but let it go anyway, though not easily. “Alright, if you say so,” he said with a worried frown on his face and gestured for one the make-up girls to come back and do her job.

Misha closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts._ If a somewhat blurry picture of Jensen manifested itself from the very depths of his brain, then no one needed to know. Focusing on the mental image of his co-stars sparkling green eyes, freckled cheeks and full lips, he was pleasantly surprised to realize that the sick feeling in his stomach had eased. If only by a little.

Ugh, no, there it was. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, but he forced it to stop the best he could and refused to acknowledge the gooey, brown substance the make-up girl dripped over his face. Thick, sticky lines made their way down his face and neck, over his eyes and lips.

He managed not to stick his tongue out and taste it, knowing he’d most certainly vomit all over the make-up desk if he indulged his curiosity. That sort of thing didn’t exactly give you golden stars in the margin of the director’s book. Or anyone else’s for that matter.

So he composed himself again and closed his mouth tightly, listening to the low rumble of the air conditioning, quickly finding some sort of rhythm in the periodic _thump_ and _coo_ he could imagine a song playing to.

He settled for inwardly singing through the lyrics of ‘ _The Weight’_ by _The band._ Ignoring the fact that Jensen sang that very song on stage a few years ago. Misha had been among the audience and he could honestly say that he’d been as wide-eyed and gaping as all the other fan girls. Not that Misha was a fan girl. Except when it came to Jensen Ackles.

Damn it, this was a really gooey mess he’d gotten himself into; falling in love with your very _straight_ co-star you work with every day? Yeah, didn’t really do swell things to his mental health.

“Misha, you’re needed on set,” one of the PAs stuck his head into the room and yelled, violently jerking the man in question out of his mental _The Band/Jensen Ackles_ concert.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. Unfortunately, to speak you have to open your mouth, which in Misha’s case was covered in fake leviathan-goo. _Fuck._ He quickly searched the room for a bucket he could empty his stomach in, finding one just by the door.

Practically jumping out of his chair, he sprinted over to the bucket and heaved, immensely disgusted by the feeling of having everything he'd eaten come right back up the wrong way. He puked again, this time nothing but bile.

“Oh, shit, Mr. Collins! Are you alright?” the PA gasped, but didn’t move from his position in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” he groaned and spat the reminding gulp from his mouth, groaning again once he registered the disgusting taste on his tongue.

The PA seemed to be struggling with something for a few seconds, but Misha paid him no mind, too busy trying not to vomit again. “Is there anything you need? A glass of water maybe?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling some of the sickness dissipate along with the air leaving his lungs. “Glass of water would be nice,” he managed to drudge out, still sitting on the floor with the bucket in his hands, not quite ready to move away from it.

There was some kind of movement behind him, but he discounted it, concentrating only on trying to force himself to ignore how sick he was.

“M-Misha?”

Ignoring the voice completely, he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose. It helped somewhat and he felt his tense shoulders ease a little.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Jamie, just need something to drink,” he answered his make-up girl as polite as he could, though all the wanted was to flip her off and crawl back to his trailer where he could be all by himself. But there were scenes to go through, people that depended on him to do his job. _Fuck the universe._

She said something back, but that went right over his head as a blurry mix of sound as another wave of nausea dragged its nails down his spine. He gulped up another mouthful of bile, spat it out and cursed himself and whatever he’d eaten to make him that bad.

“Fucking Mexican diners, can’t fucking serve … ugh, proper food,” he muttered under his breath, breathing deliberately only through his mouth since he was leaning well into the bucket. The smell would most certainly make him vomit again.

“Your water, Mr. Collins.” A nudge on his shoulder and the sound of a glass being put down in front of him made him open his eyes, vision blurry from the sickness and dehydration.

“Thank you,” he whispered, vocal cords already feeling abused and raw from the stomach acid. He gulped the water down like he’d been stuck in the desert for the last two weeks, relishing in the feeling of his stomach being full and something clean and fresh filling his mouth and throat.

“I think you should see a doctor, Mr. Collins. You don’t look too good,” the PA carefully suggested, like he was expecting a crude answer in response and the possibility of losing his job.

Misha _would_ normally go about replying with some witty or sarcastic comment, but this situation didn’t really count as ‘normal’. “No, I’m fine, just ate something bad for dinner that’s all.”

The PA didn’t say anything as he retreated back out the door and away from there all together. Misha couldn’t really say he blamed him. No one likes to hang out with a sick, puking guy, even if it’s kind of your job to hover around all the time anyway.

-

“Wow, dude, you look like shit!”

Misha tried his very best to glare at the – at least – eight foot tall giant that was Jared Padalecki. His friend looked worried, though, but as much as Misha liked attention, right now he didn’t want to be seen or talked to by anybody. At all.

“Thanks,” he bit back and blinked, his field of vision suddenly did a somersault, making him sway sideways and grasping for any kind of support so he wouldn’t fall to the ground. Luckily he was standing just by the fence that leviathan-Castiel was supposed to break open before he vanished into the water.

He gripped it tight between his fingers and tried to blink away the haziness again, but to no avail; Jared’s face still looked like a rubber mask stretched and twisted to the point of being unrecognizable. The image did nothing but make him even more nauseous.

“You okay, man?” Jared asked again, sounding even more worried which made every nerve Misha had twist and turn in annoyance. Why couldn’t everybody just ignore him? All he wanted to do was get this last scene done so he could go home and be tragic and sick without being disturbed.

“I’m fine.” He coughed, all of a sudden feeling like his throat had closed up completely with phlegm and slime. It was a bit hard to breathe, but as long as he kept coughing it up every few minutes, he reckoned he’d be fine.

“You sure? Maybe you should see a doctor or something,” his friend asked again and covered Misha’s shoulder with his hand.

Great, now he got a headache too, “I’m fine!” he snapped and rubbed at his eyes; his vision got steadily worse and the slime was starting to seriously clog his throat. “Sorry,” he added when Jared hadn’t replied.

He heard a sigh and glanced up, seeing Jared with his understanding, kind eyes looking back down at him, “It’s alright, man. Just be careful though, alright?” Jared brushed his hand against Misha’s shoulder again before he walked away.

All Misha could do was force his lips into something akin to a smile and nod.

-

He watched as Misha once again had to close his eyes and breathe deeply. It was obvious to everyone that he was not feeling well. That was probably also the understatement of the year; he looked damn miserable and it did nothing but make Jensen on edge.

Jensen wanted nothing other than tell the director they were done for today and drive the poor guy home. Nobody should feel obligated to do this kind of job in such a state.

Although they _did_ only have one scene left to shoot, the one where the leviathan takes Castiel’s body into the lake and destroys it, Jensen felt so protective over his friend that he considered asking for a double to do it because damn, Misha didn’t look like he was up to _anything_ right now, let alone walk straight into cold water and go all the way under.

Jensen cursed under his breath as his hand shot out to make Misha stable again. He grabbed him by the elbow, one hand somehow landing on his lower back. Jensen didn’t think much of it, but something about Misha’s expression changed at that before he composed himself and tried to look normal.

Misha’s eyes were red and glossy, and his cheeks were pale and sweaty, but he kept on going and did the best he could. Perhaps he pushed his body too far, but he downright refused to step down. Jensen couldn’t keep himself from admiring his older co-star for his incredible obstinacy, though it looked like it wasn’t going to lead him somewhere nice at the moment.

“Alright, Let’s get this over with, guys! Last scene; Jensen, Jared and Jim you’re not in this shot so get behind the camera,” Guy said from his director’s chair, looking all sorts of concentrated which made Jensen a little more at ease, thinking they’d maybe get it in one take.

“Misha,” Guy then shouted and no less than fifteen heads turned to see if Misha even heard Guy talking to him.

After a few seconds, a somewhat weak ‘yes’ came from the actor in response.

Guy had a worried frown between his eyes, “You know what to do, just … walk into the lake and sink. Don’t stay under for more than a couple of seconds.”

Misha nodded and his breath hitched, but Jensen was sure only he heard it since he stood so close. It sounded like Misha’s throat was blocked. He then coughed and harked up a whole mouthful of slime and spat it out, he winced and swallowed, probably having a sore throat as well.

“On your marks!” Guy yelled and Jensen, Jared and Jim trotted over to stand just out of the camera’s range, watching nervously as Misha walked out of the gate, unsteady on his feet, and stopped where his mark was.

“Action!”

Jensen had to admit that Misha’s leviathan-Castiel was pretty damn awesome and scary. The way he walked, tilted his head just perfectly and how unfocussed his eyes seemed to be. Then he realized that Misha did none of that on purpose, it was all because he was too sick to move properly.

The thought made something painful and sick lurch in his stomach.

Misha kept on stumbling until he reached the water and Jensen had to force himself to stand still and not say anything. He did _not_ want Misha out in that cold water, sure that would make his condition worse.

He watched as the water reached his knees, waist and then finally his chest. Jensen saw every tiny flinch he made, how his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed; his throat was probably clogging again and he was surely fighting the urge to cough it up.

The water was up to his shoulders now and he barely kept himself from shouting for him to stop and come back because surely they could do this on any other day, right? It didn’t _have_ to happen today, why couldn’t it wait until Misha was well again?

Then Misha’s head disappeared too, under the dark, ice cold water. _Damn him and his stubbornness._

One second passed. Two, three, four. After he’d been under for five seconds people started to get worried, none of them exceeding the truly dreadful feeling that all but consumed Jensen Ackles, though. He was _this_ close to pissing himself from worry alone.

“He’s supposed to be back. Where is he?” Jensen said, more to himself than anyone. “Where the fuck is he?!” he shouted and everybody around him startled, all of them with the same confused, scared expression on their faces.

Jensen gripped his hair and pulled hard despite how painful it was. He’d seen his mother do it every time something bad happened, so he had no doubt he’d inherited that trait from her.

Two more seconds and he was ripping his jacket off in front of a wide-eyed Jared, but he didn’t even notice his friend, focusing on getting some of his clothing off so swimming would go easier.

“What the hell are you doing?” someone asked and Jensen had an inkling it was Jared, but he waved him off and didn’t bother to respond.

With his boots and jacket finally off, he started running towards the edge of the water. _Fifteen seconds._ Bubbles rattled the otherwise calm surface of the water, big bubbles actually. Damn, that was never good.

“Jensen!”

“Jensen, stop!”

 _Stop? STOP?_ Why the actual fuck would he stop? One of his best friends were drowning and no one else looked like they were about to step into the lake and save his life! No, so Jensen did. He was going to save his best friend.

The water was colder than he’d imagined as it seeped through his jeans and clung to his skin. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, but kept going. Why had they even let Misha come to set today when he was that ill. Did no one else care about him?

He didn’t wait until the water reached his chest before he held his breath and dove in, immediately settling into a panic mode as his eyes caught the tan color of the trench coat. He was already deep down, nearly consumed with the darkness that roamed in deeper waters.

He swam, quickening his pace now that he saw Misha eyes; they were open. That was never a good sign, right? But it didn’t mean that he was dead, it couldn’t. Not if Jensen could do anything about it, so he kicked harder with his legs and took wider strokes with his arms until he reached his friend.

Jensen grabbed him around the waist, feeling Misha’s dark hair tickle his neck and turned upwards to the surface, just now feeling his lungs constrict and scream for air. It was harder to swim with a deadweight passenger than he’d though; the trench coat’s weight had probably doubled and made the journey back to the much needed air a lot longer than it really was.

After two more kicks and strokes he finally breached the surface and immediately saw the heads of every single person focused on them. “Call an ambulance!” he screamed once he’d taken a couple of breaths. He made sure to keep Misha’s head above water as he took them back to the shore.

“Jared,” he started to say and was immensely relieved when he came running over at once and helped him carry Misha up and lay him on the grass.

“Jensen-,” Jared said, but Jensen cut him off with a grunt and put his ear right over Misha’s lips. He groaned and checked his pulse.

“He’s not breathing,” he said and went straight into CPR-mode, ripping the white shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. He opened Misha’s mouth to check if he’d swallowed his tongue before tipping his head back, pinched his nose shut and pressed his lips over Misha’s, sending air into his friend’s lungs.

 _One, two_ , he thought to himself to keep track before he got up and started compressing. God, Misha was so cold and so painfully not even alive right now.

“One, two, three, four, five,” he kept whispering to himself, not paying attention to anything other than the task at hand. “Thirty,” he said and went back to push air into Misha’s lungs, watching as his chest fell after every blow.

“Come on, Mish,” he grunted and went back to compressing, not even noticing the tears that kept running down his face until he felt the drops hit his hands. Even then, he didn’t care about that – _couldn’t_ care about his friends and co-workers seeing him sobbing right now.

“Come on!” he growled as his vision got blurry again so he blinked and felt more tears on his fingers that were the only things keeping the blood flowing through Misha’s veins.

“Jensen, the paramedics are here,” Jared said from somewhere beside him, but he paid him no mind, crouching down to press his mouth against Misha’s again.

“Wake up, you bastard!” he yelled again, hearing a broken sob leave his throat when nothing changed in Misha’s face, his eyes were closed and damn, that made him look even more dead.

Then someone was grabbing him from behind and dragging him away from Misha, more than one from the amount of hands he felt gripping his arms. “What the fuck are you doing? You gotta let me help him!”

“Jensen, calm down, we’re taking over from here,” one of the voices said, way too calmly for being in this sort of situation.

“Go away! I need to save him!” he kept shouting and struggling, but the hands never let go. He could swear more hands joined the first ones in keeping him away from his dying friend.

Then all he could see was Jared. Jared’s face, pale and sweating, eyes watery and scared, “Jensen, calm down, they’re trying to save him.” Jared’s hands went to grip Jensen’s biceps now, too. “You’ve done enough, let them pick up where you left off.”

If Jared hadn’t been Jared right at that moment, Misha wouldn’t be the only one getting a ride from the ambulance. Jensen stared into his eyes, then looked back at Misha and the men and women trying to save his life and managed a weak nod.

He opened his mouth to talk, but all that came out was more tears and an even more painful sob, immediately followed by many others.

“I know,” Jared said and drew Jensen’s body close to his in a hug, “I’m scared, too.”

“He’s gonna make it, right?” Jensen asked, but didn’t return the hug, although he appreciated it. His hands hung limply by his side and his entire body was leaning into Jared’s chest; exhausted beyond belief, both emotionally and physically. “He’s gonna make it. Right, Jared?” he said again, feeling another wave of panic wash over him and leaving him trembling, only standing because Jared was holding him up.

“Misha’ll be alright, Jensen,” Jared said in such a determined tone that Jensen believed it and sagged in relief, his legs giving out completely so Jared had to lower them both to the ground.

He watched as the paramedics continued to work on Misha. They’d intubated him and pulled an oxygen mask over his face which someone was pumping rhythmically. Jensen found himself breathing in-synch with the woman’s steady pumping.

They’d apparently carried out a heart-starter as well and one of the guys was putting some kinds of pads on Misha’s chest, the wires from them attached to the machine. “Start her up,” the guy said and Jensen saw one of the others start the defibrillator.

“Clear,” he said and everyone held their hands up and moved a bit away from Misha’s body.

Jensen had to close his eyes and cover his ears after the first time he saw how the electric shock made Misha’s body jerk violently. He felt move tears start rolling down his cheeks and wiped them away quickly so he could cover his ears again.

“Clear!”

But he heard it all anyway, how the other people on set gasped and cried and sobbed as they tried to get Misha’s heart to beat again. “Mish,” he sobbed, “Please.”

“We’ve got a rhythm!”

His eyes flew open and his hands went down to the ground, a mix between a gasp and a sob leaving his lips as he saw the paramedics covering Misha in a wool blanket and transferring his body onto a stretcher.

“W-wait!” he had to take a moment to get up from the ground, suddenly feeling incredibly cold and stiff. “I gotta come with,” he wasn’t leaving Misha. Wasn’t ever gonna let that stupid son of a bitch out of his sight ever again.

Four of the paramedics were in the process of carrying the stretcher over to the ambulance, leaving one of them back to pick up the gear. She looked him up and down, narrowing her eyes.

“Please, I have to,” he tried again when she looked to be struggling about whether to indulge him or refuse his request.

“Okay,” she answered after what must have been ages and picked up the defibrillator and carried it with her, “Come on, then.”

He was quick to follow, but looked back at Jared before jumping into the back of the ambulance, a question hanging on his lips which never got the time to be asked before Jared shook his head.

“You go. I’ll catch up with you,” Jared said and managed a half-smile before the doors shut and they drove off.

*******

Misha’s hand wasn’t cold anymore, but that was probably just because Jensen had been holding it his since they left the set. He could feel Misha’s pulse pumping in his wrist, which was one of the reasons why he was holding it in the first place, so he know for certain that he was alive. There was something else too, though, but the name of the feeling was too far out of reach at the moment.

Holding the other man’s hand felt different than it should be, it felt … no, he didn’t have a clue, he just knew that it felt like their hands were made to fit together like that.

“Come on, Misha, hang in there,” he kept muttering and clutched the blanket he was given closer around his body, first now letting himself feel how cold he was, how violently his limbs trembled as they tried to regain the heat he’d lost.

He tried not to think about the guy at Misha’s head, steadily pumping oxygen in and out of Misha’s lungs.

Man, this entire day had been one big nightmare and Jensen couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d seen Misha walk around like zombie, the sickness clinging to him like a damn tick and he hadn’t told him to go home. He hadn’t done anything. He’d let him walk into the water. Tears started pressing for real now, pushing and pushing to come out.

“Mr. Ackles.”

“Mr. Ackles, I need to ask you a few questions.”

It took a while before he even registered he was being talked to, no less what the questions was. “Huh?” he replied, rather pathetically, too, when he thought about it. He felt like a worn-out rag, sitting in a damn ambulance with his hands clutching his friend’s, scared out of his mind about whether or not Misha was going to be alive when they arrived at the hospital.

 _No, for fuck’s sake, he’ll come back. He’ll come back like he always do._ Jensen had gone into a full Dean-mode and didn’t give a flying fuck. If character-bleed was going to help keep him sane then he’d just let go and _become_ Dean.

“Mr. Ackles, I need you to focus,” the lady said and fixed him with the most penetrating and serious look he can remember ever getting. Man, that lady was tough, but she had nothing on a Dean Winchester glare, too bad Jensen didn’t have the energy or desire to pull that one out. All the help he got from Dean was hope and some vital piece of mental strength that prevented him from turning into a sobbing, drooling mess.

He only managed a weak nod, vaguely noticing his fingers twitching around Misha’s. Why couldn’t he just wake up? He found himself suddenly praying. To God? Angels? Castiel? It didn’t even register how insanely weird and not-normal that was; praying to a fictional character to help. But then again he didn’t gave a shit. Misha was important. Misha.

“How long was he in the water?”

 _Minutes, hours, days._ “About a minute, a minute and a half, maybe.”

She nodded and wrote it down. Her nametag said Ann, but he felt like he would never be able to think of her as something other than ‘the woman who let me ride with the ambulance’.

Looking back down at Misha’s face, he felt the tears prickling behind his eyes again and didn’t do anything to stop them as they rolled down his cheeks. He tightened his grip around Misha’s hand and brought it up to his lips, muttering something – anything - beneath his breath.

“When your … friend,” she said the word like she wasn’t really sure what kind of ‘friends’ Misha and Jensen was, but Jensen was too deep in his own thoughts to hear it.

“Jensen,” she prompted, this time in a soft voice which snapped his attention back to her in a heartbeat. “When you got your friend back on land, was he breathing?”

The images of a lifeless body next to him and he feeling of such dread that it made his stomach turn, lashed at him again and he had to cough in order to cover up a wrecked sob. He shook his head. “I was doing CPR when you guys showed up.”

The woman – Ann – nodded and started writing again. “His heart-,”

“Was not beating, ma’am,” Jensen interrupted, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried not to start crying again. _Come on, lady, was this important right now?_

She gave him an understanding look and cleared her throat. It looked like she wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but when she glanced up to his face again, she changed her mind. He didn’t know what she saw there, but had a feeling some more of Dean was starting so seep through to the surface. “You did everything you were supposed to. You saved your friend’s life, Jensen.”

Hearing those words made it all a bit more real, but he was still thankful to hear it. At least it gave him the feeling that he had done _something_ right that day, because the guilt about not forcing that stubborn bastard home was still eating him up inside.

A few moments of silence passed before Jensen finally got the balls to ask the question that had been nagging at him the entire drive, “Will he be alright?”

Ann sighed, but didn’t look entirely defeated which put Jensen a little more at ease, “Since he was a relatively short amount of time under water, it is very unlikely that his brain got damaged due to the lack of oxygen. His lungs seem to be fine as well, but there is still some water in them that can cause some minor damage.”

“But he’ll be alright?” he asked again, not feeling like that answer satisfied any curiosity he had about this, at all.

She put her elbows down on her knees and leaned forward. “When he went under, it’s possible that he was already unconscious, but because the breathing reflex works even if you’re underwater or not, his lungs took in a lot of water.”

“Yeah, but what does that mean?” this was getting old, fast. Couldn’t she just answer the fucking question like a normal person?

“His lungs may be a bit damaged and may be more receptive to viruses and bacteria, in which case he’ll end up with pneumonia, but he’ll most likely recover just fine.”

“Most likely, okay,” he whispered to himself and brought Misha’s hand up to his lips again, and closed his eyes. The fact that Misha was still unconscious was unnerving as hell, but she said he’ll be alright so Jensen believed her.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked down at Misha’s face; it hasn’t moved at all and Jensen couldn’t say how much he wished Misha would just open his eyes so he could see them again. His cheeks were still looking way too pale and still cold when Jensen put his hand there.

He looked away and locked his gaze on Misha’s chest, watching as it rose and fell when he breathed.

-

Before he knew it, the ambulance stopped and suddenly there were people dragging him out, making Misha’s hand slip out of his. He momentarily panicked, but calmed back down – as much as he possibly could – and followed the paramedics and Misha as they made their way into the hospital.

He ran alongside of them and waited as the doctors took over and the paramedics gave them all the information before they went back to their ambulance.

“I’m sorry, Mr. …,” one of the doctors said, a tall man with a greying beard and glasses. He reminded Jensen a little of one of his uncles back home in Texas.

“Jensen,” he responded in his Dean-voice – deliberately or not, he had no idea - and looked impatiently past the doctor’s shoulder to see where they took Misha.

“Jensen, my name is George,” the doctor said and moved to block Jensen when he tried to move past him. “You are not allowed in there, Jensen, I’m sorry.”

“Where the fuck are you taking him?” his voice sounded rough and angry in his own ears, but George didn’t flinch. Jensen was impressed; most people were terrified of Dean.

“We’re moving him to an operating room,” he brought his file up to his eyes and leafed through it, “He has swallowed a lot of water and has pulmonary edema,” at Jensen’s clueless look, he elaborated, “Accumulation of water in his lungs. We need to remove that as soon as possible.”

Jensen couldn’t really do anything other than nod. He tried to think of anything other he wanted to ask, but when he looked back up again the doctor was gone and Jensen was left, standing all alone in a hallway with no idea where his friends were.

“Jensen!”

If he didn’t have the habit of reaction to the sound of his own name, the voice that called it had most certainly managed to get the desired effect anyway.

Jensen quickly turned around and hefted the blanket a little closer around his body when it threatened to fall off, “Jared,” he croaked out.

Jared looked like he had sprinted the whole way from set; he looked as wrecked as Jensen felt when he jogged up to Jensen and put a hand on his shoulder. “Jensen, how is he?”

He turned to look again, “He’s,” but no one was there. The hallway was still empty, “Gone. He’s gone, Jared,” he breathed and fisted his hands in his hair again. “Where the fuck did they put him?” On the verge of freaking out, he threw off the obstructing blanket and started bolting down the hallway.

“Wait, stop!” Jared boomed and ran after him, though he had to catch up with his friend before he could stop him. “They’re just checking him out, only doctors are allowed to be in there.”

He knew that, the doctor had told him that just ten seconds ago, but the need to be close was slowly but surely driving him nuts. He needed to see that Misha was alive, goddammit. He swore to himself that he wasn’t going to let Misha out of his sight again.

Silence. They were the only ones there, which in itself should be more than a little doubtful considering they were in a _hospital._ Jensen’s mind deliberately or unconsciously chose to leave that little detail out, though. It focused solely on Misha right now and whether or not he was even still alive.

Jensen could understand why Dean and Sam hated hospitals so much. “He’ll be alright,” he whispered to himself before he cleared his throat and repeated it, in Dean’s voice this time, “He’ll be alright.” He had no idea if he shouted it out so the whole world would hear it or whispered it like it was a secret – he had no idea right now.

Jared cleared his throat, “Let’s go back to the waiting area,” his voice broke, but both of them acted like they didn’t notice.

Everybody who’s had a close friend or relative in the hospital knows that the waiting is like a living hell. Doesn’t matter if they’re there to fix up a broken arm, get an appendectomy or life-saving surgery – having to sit there and wait for the doctors to come out at give the good or bad news is fucking horrible.

At the moment it was just him, Jared, Jim Michaels and Clif in the waiting room, and none of them had uttered a damn word since Jared brought Jensen in to sit down.

The silence was worse. It would’ve been so much better if any of them would just open their mouth and talk – wouldn’t even matter what about as long as there was sound.

He had no idea how much time had passed before Jared opened his mouth to talk, “Jensen-,”

“I’m fine S-Jared,” he snapped and barely had time to do a full U-turn before the wrong name came out; Sam. He’d nearly called his best friend by the wrong name, the name of the fictional character he played at that.

When had the world shifted and turned him into Dean Winchester?

It took a few minutes before he tried again, “Are you alright?” it sounded like he hadn’t even noticed the slip, but then again, he was probably just ignoring it.

 _Yes, Sammy, I’m fine. Stop nagging._ If the universe wasn’t going to fix itself, than he’d just have to take matters into his own hands; he didn’t want to be Dean. Not now, anyway, so he did something Dean would never do. Dean never talked about how he was feeling.

“No,” he breathed and felt like his own blood was starting to flow through his body again. “No, Jay, I’m not alright.” He wanted to cry, but wasn’t sure if he had the tears or the energy to do it.

Jared didn’t say anything and Jensen was glad for that, glad that all the answer he got was Jared’s understanding silence and strong arm around his shoulder.

-

“Jensen?” a voice called and he jerked upright, wincing as he turned his neck from where it had been turned in an extremely painful angle. He’d fallen asleep apparently and now he was cold, so utterly and terrifyingly cold that he was scared he might freeze to death.

“Yeah,” he grumbled and curled into himself in the hard plastic seat in the waiting room. The blanket was as wet as his clothes, but at least it was woolen so it still helped to warm him up.

“Mr. Collins is awake now, you can go in and see him if you’d like,” it was the doctor he’d run into before, the one with the beard and the glasses that reminded him of Uncle Joe. Jensen couldn’t remember his name now, but that wasn’t even important so he didn’t bother to ask again.

Misha is awake, Misha is awake. He jerked inelegantly out of his chair, waking Jared with a jerk in the process and walked with wobbly steps over to the doctor, “Where is he?” his voice sounded nothing like Dean’s now and although he was glad for it, he kind of wished he could’ve sounded a little more badass in this situation. Jensen’s voice was light and growly at the same time, sounding like a kid that had lost his favorite toy, but then someone said they might’ve found it.

The doctor shifted his gaze to look at something behind Jensen and quirked one eyebrow up. Jensen was about to turn around and look, but then the doctor nodded his head and started walking away.

“This way, Jensen,” he said and Jensen scrambled to follow, the thought about Jared and the others waiting in the room they’d just left didn’t enter his mind.

They walked and walked. Further than Jensen thought they would, until they stopped outside a door. It looked like a regular door; wooden, no glass window, not particularly sturdy looking. He figured he could kick it down in one try.

The doctor was staring at him when he looked over. “Here we are,” he explained even though he didn’t have to. He nodded once and walked away without an answer, leaving Jensen standing outside Misha’s room.

It took two seconds before his body finally caught up with his mind and he nearly ripped the door off its hinges when he tried to get inside.

“Hi, Jen.”

It was without a doubt the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. More beautiful than the sound of birds chirping in the morning back in Texas, and the low rumble of the Impala whenever he got to drive it around on set. Way more appealing than the drip and drop of gentle spring rain and the more heavy drops when there were thunderclouds approaching. And that said a lot because he loved it when it rained.

Misha’s chest was moving; he was breathing. Jensen didn’t know how long he stood there, but suddenly – without knowing he’d moved – he was sitting in the chair beside the bed with one of Misha’s hands in his own.

He looked up at his face, Misha’s face, and promptly got lost in eyes. His friend’s deep blue eyes that were open and alert and _alive_.

His body was moving on its own again, but even if he’d had full control he still would’ve taken Misha’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Mish, god,” he breathed and was surprised when he started crying again, because he’d been so sure that he had no more energy and fluid in his body.

He heard Misha’s breath catching in his throat and felt his entire body tensing, but only for a second, maybe he’d even imagined it because it passed so quickly. Jensen kissed his knuckles again before planting his face on Misha’s thigh. Relieved sobs shook and jerked his body as he cried.

“Shh,” he heard a raspy and tired voice from somewhere above him and the word _Castiel_ suddenly flitted through his mind and left him puzzled and confused. That thought vaporized as soon as a hand started petting his hair, not many minutes later he was snoring, his head on Misha’s lap and hands still holding on to the other’s like a lifeline.

*******

If there was one thing Misha had learned in the past two days, it’s that when your body tells you to just stop and go home, you’d do well to listen to that. You could say it was a shock to learn that he’d actually been clinically _dead_ for nearly five minutes, in which his best friend that he sported a major crush on, Jensen, had tried to revive him.

To be entirely truthful, shocked didn’t even begin to cover it; Misha had thrown up on the floor beside his hospital bed and had a minor mental breakdown.

Luckily there was no one around to see it, except for that poor nurse. She had looked positively terrified.

He had just come down from the worst of it, but he still looked like a wreck, when Jensen popped back in. Apparently, the guy had refused to leave Misha’s side and Jared had forcefully dragged him back to his house. That’s what he’d been told anyway, he had no idea if he should take it as truth or lie.

“Hey, Jensen,” he found himself saying and smiled. At least he thought he was smiling, he could’ve been sporting a pain-distorted grimace for all he knew.

Jensen nodded and went back to his chair beside the bed without saying anything. It was frustrating, the way Jensen was always silent. Misha was thrilled to have him there, but sometimes the silence between them got too thick and uncomfortable.

Finally having gotten enough of it, Misha decided to just ask. Couldn’t be that bad, right? Right.

“Jensen, are you ok?” he asked and winced when the pain stabbed at his throat. It was still sore, as was his chest from where his friend had done compressions.

When he thought about it, he hadn’t actually thanked Jensen for saving his life – maybe that’s why Jensen appeared to be so cranky and distant lately.

“Jensen, I-,” he cut himself off; he didn’t have any idea of how to say this. Jensen was still not talking.

“I miss you,” Misha mumbled and looked at his hands, before his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. The wrong words had somehow managed to worm their way out of his mouth, instead of the ‘thank you’ he’d been aiming for.

He didn’t want to see how Jensen would react to any of this, feeling guilty as hell – it was his own fault, all of this. If he’d just gone home none of this would’ve happened and Jensen would still be the smiling, happy guy everyone knew him as.

“What?” Jensen asked and Misha will be damned to hell if his heart didn’t flutter when he finally heard his friend speak. It was true; he’d missed Jensen, just now realizing how much.

“Are you okay?” Misha turned away from his hands to look at Jensen, taking in how truly exhausted he looked; bags under his red and tired eyes, hair sleep-mussed and dirty looking. Basically, it looked like he hadn’t slept or showered for days, which was probably the case based on his appearance.

Jensen huffed, but it sounded frustrated and sad, “You’re kinda the wrong person to ask that question, Mish.”

It was the first time since before the … accident, that he and Jensen had had an actual conversation. “How so?” he asked and resolutely ignored the hard and stone-cold look on Jensen’s face. It reminded him too much of Dean.

Jensen actually looked baffled, like he didn’t understand why Misha was asking him that. Misha was legitimately curious as to why that was and was close to asking again before Jensen answered,

“You-,” he stopped and took a moment to breathe. “You were _dead_ , Misha. As in heart-not-beating dead. You familiar with that term?”

Why was Jensen so angry? And why the hell was he channeling Dean Winchester? “Yes,” he answered in a low voice, trying not to make Jensen any angrier because if it was one thing the world could go without, it was a pissed-off Dean Winchester.

“Then you probably also know how fucking _hard_ it is for some people to watch someone they love dying,” Jensen’s voice broke halfway through the sentence and he flushed in embarrassment, ears and cheeks tainted a warm, pink color.

“You have no idea how it was. What it was like to dive after you in that goddamned lake, dragging your _lifeless_ body back on land and-,” he stopped and wiped at his eyes. Misha could see his jaw muscles working under his skin, no doubt trying to hold back a sob, or several.

“Jensen-,”

“I had to work the life back into one of my closest friends, Misha,” Jensen said and he sounded so tired all of a sudden, like the fight he’d been showing mere seconds before had drained right out of him. “I was so scared, Mish, I thought I was gonna have to bury you,” Jensen had deflated completely and sat hunched in on himself in the chair.

Misha felt tears of his own prickle behind his eyes, so he shut them and sunk down on the bed. “I’m here,” he heard himself saying, eyes still closed, but his hand was inching closer to Jensen.

“I know,” he heard Jensen whisper and nearly jumped out of his skin when he grabbed his hand, even when Misha knew it was coming. Jensen had held his hand every time he showed up and it always left his heart feeling a bit wonky and crooked inside his chest.

Misha tightened his fingers around Jensen’s and hoped that they could stay that way forever.

“Why didn’t you go home?” Jensen asked after a while, his voice still thick and deep from emotion.

“I don’t know.”

“’cus you’re a stubborn asshole?” Jensen supplied and there was a smile in his voice. Misha opened his eyes and turned his head, smiling back just as vigorously.

“Yeah,” Misha agreed and started to laugh, only to abruptly stop when it hurt his throat and chest. “Damn, I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.”

“Hell yeah, you should’ve,” Jensen huffed and gave a half-laugh, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.

“I-, thank you, by the way,” Misha awkwardly drudged out and hoped Jensen wasn’t going to have another bad reaction, seriously, the guy could be freaking scary when he wanted to.

“For what?” he asked and it actually sounded like he had no idea what Misha was talking about.

“For saving my life.”

“You don’t get to thank me for that,” Jensen replied and fixed their hands with a stern look. Misha tilted his head and waited for an explanation. Was Jensen being this difficult on purpose, or was there something else?

“Why not?” Misha asked when Jensen didn’t say anything. It looked more like he wanted a hole to appear in floor and swallow him up.

“Because you shouldn’t have to. You would’ve done the same thing for me. I didn’t feel … obligated or whatever, to save your life, I acted on instinct. It’s what anyone would’ve done. You don’t have to thank me.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I still want to,” Misha conceded after a moment of silence, staring right into Jensen’s eyes as if that was going to make him understand.

Jensen eventually nodded and looked down at his lap and fiddled with a loose threat on his jeans, “Okay, then,” he laughed and Misha was beyond relieved when it sounded sincere. Maybe that meant they were both starting to go back to being themselves again.

“Thank you, Jensen. _Thank you._ ”

“You’re welcome,” Jensen whispered with a tiny smile gracing his lips and Misha was pretty sure they were having a moment. Until one of the nurses came back in and sort-of kindly ordered Jensen out of there.

“See ya tomorrow, Jen,” Misha waved his hand lazily through the air and laughed a little when he saw Jensen copying his half-assed gesture. “Love you, man,” he then said and his eyes widened, he couldn’t fucking believe he’d said that. And with a bloody nurse walking around in there to witness this awkward thing as well. Misha closed his eyes to keep from seeing what he knew Jensen’s face would look like.

“I, uh, love you too, Mish,” Jensen eventually stuttered out and Misha’s eyes flew open. Did he really say it, and make it sound like he truly meant it, too? In the non-platonic, romantic sort of way? Misha sure as hell hoped so.

“Wh-w-,” Misha’s mouth was obviously tired and in need of a break, so it refused to make the right noises. And _now_ of all times, why now?

Jensen’s genuine laugh made Misha’s brain stop working, too, “See ya tomorrow. Bye.”

And then Jensen’s butt walked out of the room, leaving Misha completely speechless and confused as hell.

“Wow, your boyfriend stinks,” the middle-aged nurse commented after a beat as she rearranged Misha’s sheets and wrote down the different measurements the computer-thing told her. “He better shower before he comes in tomorrow, ‘s all I’m sayin’.”

Misha just let the contented smile spread all around his head and flopped back onto the pillow.

*******

Jensen felt like he was going through a thick mist the entire drive home from the hospital. All he could think about was Misha’s face after he’d said ‘I love you’, like it was a big secret he’d just told out loud, or a phrase he’d sworn never to say to someone.

It was the image of his face after Jensen had said the words back that he’d never forget, though. The sheer relief and happiness he’d seen in that smile was unlike anything he’d ever seen and didn’t fail to make his heart jump a little faster inside his chest.

It didn’t fail to leave Jensen confused and giddy all at the same time, either. Why had they said those words in the first place? They were friends and friends love each other, but they don’t go around and tell it in random situations. Jensen had the feeling Misha wasn’t being very platonic when he said it, so where did that leave them?

He’d just walked back into his house slash apartment and turned on the coffee maker when Jared came bursting in. The guy had the key to his place and came over whenever he felt like it, “Hey, man, figured you needed some grub so I went by that Chinese place that serves that good noodle-stuff and brought back some.”

Jensen was still stuck inside his own little mind-box, so he didn’t say something back when Jared continued from the foyer, struggling a bit with all the bags by the sound of it, “Ah shit, forgot the soy-sauce. Don’t you have some in your fridge? Coulda sworn I saw some in there the other day.”

Jared eventually got his shoes and jacket off, and walked into the tiny kitchen with not two, but four giant paper bags full of food. Jensen’s mind was still a bit foggy and a bit slow. Jared raised his eyebrow and set the food down on the table.

“What’s got you all goofy looking,” he asked, looking somewhere between amused and a bit worried.

“What?”

“You’re smiling like an idiot, is Misha better?” Jared let out a short laugh and pulled everything out of the bags before he walked over to the cupboards and pulled out cups and plates.

“Smiling?” Jensen muttered to himself and just then realized his cheeks were kind of tired. Huh, weird.

“So?” Jared prompted as he tried to balance everything on his arms, but had to surrender to the inevitable; his arms weren’t big enough. He settled on dividing it all into two piles they could carry together.

“What?” Jensen asked once he’d managed to steer his wayward mind onto the right track again. “Misha? Yeah, he’s better. Doctor said he’ll be released in a couple of days, maybe tomorrow.”

Jared narrowed his eyes slightly and studied his friend for a moment before pulling on his smile again, “That’s great, man. Gotta admit though, I was a little worried about you too there for a while.”

Jensen fixed him with a halfhearted glare and resolutely refused to give any kind of response to that.

“Yo, set the table, dude, we’ll miss the movie,” Jared rushed out before taking all the bags with him into the living room. The guy never did awkward silences very well. Usually, he’d just smile and say ‘alright, awkward’, but this situation called for something a little more mature.

Jensen was left a little stunned, standing by the rumbling coffeemaker. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask, but what eventually came out was, “What movie?”

Jared scoffed from the other side of the thin wall, “Captain America, we haven’t seen that one, remember?” there was the sound of the television being turned on. “Hurry up, it starts in ten minutes.”

“That’ll give me just enough time to shower,” Jensen said when he finally remembered that he hadn’t showered since … since before he got Misha out of the lake. Which was three days ago. He experimentally smelled his armpit and nearly gagged – how come he hadn’t been told straight to his face that a shower was in order?

“Dude!”

“I’ll be quick, just set the table yourself and don’t start eating before I get back,” Jensen dismissed him and went to his bedroom to get fresh clothes, first now letting himself feel how terrible it was to be so dirty and smelly.

-

When he eventually came back in, the table was actually set and the final commercials before the movie started were playing across the screen. Jensen didn’t know how hungry he was until he got hit with the smell of his favorite food.

His stomach growled loudly as he sat down next to Jared and started rummaging through one of the bags in search for his food.

“When was the last time you ate?” Jared asked. They usually asked each other that question whenever their empty stomachs made their hungry presences known, but this time the words sounded anything but playful coming out of Jared’s mouth.

Jensen didn’t answer.

“Jensen,” Jared put down his own food and tried again.

Jensen really hated the way his friend’s voice sounded, “Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

He scoffed and let out a humorless laugh, “Jared,” he’d planned on evading the question in true Dean Winchester-style, but once he set his eyes on Jared’s classic sad puppy-face, the battle was lost.

“To be honest, Jared, I have no idea. I mean, I’m really confused and-and-,” Jensen stuttered out and looked at Jared, trying his best to make him understand.

“Did something happen at the hospital? Is Misha alright?” the puppy-eyes widened and he put his food down on the table.

Jensen had no idea what to say, if he should say anything at all. What would Jared think if he knew the truth? He knew Jared was one of the most open people in the world and didn’t want anything bad to happen to anybody, but how would he react if Jensen told him this, though?

“I told Misha I love him,” the words were out of his mouth before he’d even put two thoughts together. His brain was such a treacherous thing and the desire to poke himself through his eyeballs with the chopsticks briefly flitted through his mind.

Jared furrowed his brows and opened and closed his mouth. Jensen wanted to laugh at him and say he looked like a goldfish, but now wasn’t really the right time.

“O-okay, what did he say to that?”

“He said it first, kinda, and then I said it back,” he said and tried to put his focus back on the movie, but that wasn’t going to happen. Jared still looked like he had trouble putting two and two words together in hopes of creating a sensible sentence. Jensen knew the feeling.

“He said that he loves you?”

Jensen nodded.

“Why?”

 _Are you serious, Jared?_ Jensen tilted his head and replayed the scene inside his head, trying to get any more information out of it, but no matter how many times he tried, the conclusions always ended up being: Misha is in love with Jensen. “Because he does, I dunno, how the hell should I know?”

“Do _you_?” Jared asked, voice soft and sure all of a sudden. Jensen envied him for that and wanted to rearrange his face a little bit – with his fist, on principle.

“Yes, of course I love him, he’s my friend!”

Jared gave him one of those bitch-faces Sam always seemed to be sporting these days and fixed Jensen with his _you’re stupid_ -stare. “Friend, huh?”

“How are you not freaked out about this? I’m not gay!” _I think._ Jensen sputtered out and jerked out of the couch. He had no idea what to think about anything anymore so he settled on pacing the five feet distance of free space between the coffeetable and the tv. This whole conversation was giving him the mother of all headaches as well.

“You’re-,” Jared sighed and now he looked as uncomfortable with this subject as Jensen did. What the fuck was up with all these emotion-changes? “Look, in the end, it’s not really about gay or not. I have to admit, though, that you haven’t actually been the very definition of ‘I’m in a normal friendship’ here either.”

Jensen stopped pacing and looked at Jared, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying that ever since, _you know_ , happened,” Jared carefully said and noticed how Jensen clenched his jaw. “You haven’t been eating, barely sleeping. You’re constantly at the hospital, even when the visiting-hours ended a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I’m _worried_ , what’s so hard to grasp about that?”

“I’m worried, too, Jensen, but I’m just saying that you’ve been taking ‘worried’ to a whole new level. Several levels. I think, and don’t hit me when I say this, okay?” he said and held his hands up in a peace offering gesture when Jensen fisted his hands. “I think you’ve discovered some … uh, new feelings? These past couple of days which has left you confused and not really knowing what to think.”

Jensen didn’t bother to answer, so he just glared at Jared before sitting back down on the couch to continue eating his dinner and watch the movie.

Jared was quiet as well and it made Jensen on edge, but he still refused to speak. In the end, though, the silence got too uncomfortable. “Say, you’re right. Maybe I’ve started feeling something that I wasn’t feeling before.”

“Alright,” Jared replied and lucky for him, didn’t sound like he’d just gotten the last cookie. Jensen wasn’t sure what he’d do if he did.

“What happens then?”

“Talk to him,” came Jared’s response as he chewed another mouthful of wok and noodles.

“What?”

“He feels the same way. I think,” Jared shrugged and carried on with his quest to empty his box first. He didn’t even have to give it a proper try; he was over half-way and Jensen was still working on his first portion.

Jensen snorted and put his food down before he turned around in his seat to face Jared a little better, “You know, ‘I think’ isn’t really gonna cut it here.”

Jared looked up and swallowed, staring at nothing before he nodded, “Alright. I’m pretty sure. 99%, actually.”

“How do you know that?”

“I ain’t blind, buddy. When he thinks no one’s looking, he’s staring at you like you’re some sort of god or something.”

Jensen didn’t really know what to say about that, so he didn’t say anything.

“But I just thought it was because he was channeling Castiel or whatever, but when you said he’d told you that he love you, it all clicked into place.”

“But I’m not-,”

“If you’re about to say the word ‘gay’ and be as dense as Dean Winchester, I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” Jared warned and pointed the chopsticks in Jensen’s face, which didn’t look very threatening in itself, but one look at Jared’s eyes and Jensen’s mouth clammed shut.

“You can’t choose who you’re gonna fall in love with. These things just happen,” Jared added and turned his attention back on the TV. They’d missed a whole lot, but neither of them minded much.

“Who said I’m in love with him?” Jensen said after a while, when Steve Rogers stepped out of Mr. Stark’s magical machine as a new man, so to speak.

“ _You_ did. Now shut up and eat, you look like you need it.”

Jensen grumbled out some half-assed response, but finished his portion regardless.

“Wow, I can’t say how happy I am for that conversation to be over,” Jared mumbled and laughed a little.

Jensen smiled, too, “Yeah, me too.”

Then they both turned their heads and looked at each other, the living room completely silent save for the low murmur of the movie, until they burst into a crazy laughter that would give them both sore stomach-muscles the next day.

-

“I think I need to go to the hospital,” Jensen said after the movie was finished and they both sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee. The table in the living room had also been cleaned up suspiciously fast and Jensen couldn’t help but think that Jared might have foreseen this turn of events.

“Sure, I’ll drive you there,” Jared said and Jensen just knew that Jared had been waiting for this moment the entire day-turned-evening.

“Visiting hours ended four hours ago,” came Jensen’s weak response as he slurped up the rest of his coffee before he set the cup down in the sink.

Jared just nodded, “Yeah, I know, but they usually let family and partners in anyway.”

“Really? I just came out-,”

Jared waved him off, “I didn’t mean it like that, now stop being so dramatic. By the way, hope you’re finding the world outside the closet a little warmer. There’s still snow on your back from Narnia.” Then he proceeded to laugh his ass off and make his way towards the foyer, leaving Jensen standing in the kitchen with his mouth hanging open.

“I _just_ found out that I have a gay crush on one of my best friends and this is what you do with it? Make fun of me?” Jensen shouted after him with a feigned hurt in his voice. He grinned to himself when he heard Jared stop short and draw a sharp breath.

“Ah, shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that-,”

Jensen shuffled over to him and slapped the back of his head, “Shut it, freak, I’m just kidding.”

“Dude! I seriously thought I’d just done something incredibly stupid!” Jared exclaimed and got his boots and jacket on.

“Whatever, just give me a lift to the hospital.”

“Bossy,” Jared muttered and managed to avoid getting hit in the back of the head again as they made their way out of Jensen’s front door.

-

The ride to the hospital took about ten minutes, in which Jensen should be able to decide what the hell he was going to tell Misha when he got there. No such luck, though. The universe must surely hate him.

Anyway, he was glad Jared didn’t find it fitting to fill the silent car with some more of his genius and totally hysterical lines.

The car eventually screeched to a halt and Jared turned around in the driver seat, “You, uh, want me to join you?” It sounded like he didn’t really want to be there right now and Jensen was glad for that because he didn’t want him there either.

“Nah, I’ll tell him you’ll come in tomorrow.”

“Okay. Want me to pick you up after?” he asked and gave Jensen a friendly smile which he happily returned. He couldn’t say how immensely glad he was to have a friend like Jared, so he just nodded again in thanks and got out of the car.

“Look, you don’t have to, I mean if you got anything else on your plate-,” he started as he held the car-door open, but Jared cut him off with a dismissive wave.

“Jensen, don’t worry about it. Just call me and I’ll be here,” he smiled again, dimples showing and put his hand back on the stick shift – the universal sign of ‘I gotta go now’.

“Alright, thanks, man,” Jensen said and closed the door. Suddenly feeling like the nerves he’d been trying to suppress just snuck up and attacked him; he breathed heavily and tried to be as calm as possible before walking in.

He really didn’t want to be nervous right now, especially since he’d kind of planned out some decent way to tell Misha about his sudden affections towards him. He did _not_ want to stand there stuttering like a scared-to-shit middle-schooler talking to his first crush.

Walking past the reception, he barely managed to sneak past the nurse who, very conveniently, had her back turned towards him. He smiled triumphantly and half-jogged through the hallway leading to Misha’s room. Whenever he heard someone coming, he hurried into a janitor’s closet or a random room in the hospital; anything not to get caught.

Some weird looks were sent his way from the patients he disturbed, but being the polite Texan his momma raised him to be, he profusely apologized and jumped back out of there as soon as the random nurse or doctor had passed.

He eventually arrived at the door he’d seen way too many times already, thanks to his wonderful ninja skills. Seriously, maybe he could make a habit of sneaking around since he was so good at it. His musings got interrupted by a cough from the other side of the door, making him nearly jump into the air since it was so sudden.

“Mish?” he mock-whispered, popping his head in as he opened the door. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Misha sitting in his hospital bed reading a book.

Misha startled and closed the book before his eyes shot up and met Jensen’s. He immediately calmed down and huffed a tiny laugh once he recognized his unexpected guest, “Jensen, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back before tomorrow.”

“I, uh,” you know sometimes when some people talk to someone they really like, the ability to form coherent sentences just goes flying out the window? Yeah, that was totally happening now. “You see, um, I’ve been in Narnia for many years.” _NOOOO!_

Misha’s lips pulled into an unsure, yet amused smile, “You’ve been in Narnia?”

Jensen palmed his face and groaned, “No, I meant that … you opened my closet door.”

Misha furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at here, Jensen. Did you smoke your socks?”

“Socks, what? No, listen-,” but then his brain decided to pull a blue-screen on him and left him looking at Misha with his mouth open, no noise was coming out.

“I’m listening,” Misha smiled a half-smile and scooted up a little more so he was sitting in the bed and not half-lying.

“Fuck, okay, I have no idea how to say this,” Jensen muttered and went to sit down in the chair beside the bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the right thing to say would just fall into his head already.

“Just take your time, dork,” Misha said with a smile in his voice and rubbed Jensen’s shoulder not-very reassuringly.

Jensen was about to reply with something witty, but the moment he set eyes on Misha, his body took over and surged up to connect his lips with Misha’s.

Misha’s eyes flew open and his entire body tensed, “Hmpf.” But after a moment, when it was clear that Jensen wasn’t going to jerk away and sit back down into his chair, he relaxed and tentatively moved his hands up to put them on Jensen’s shoulders.

They stood that way for seconds, minutes perhaps, Jensen didn’t really know. It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It kind of hurt, too, since Jensen had been so abrupt in his movements, his lips sort of missed Misha’s by a few millimeters as well, but neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was that he was kissing the person he didn’t know he was in love with before his moose of a friend said so. It was because of its imperfections that it was perfect.

When he moved away and opened his eyes, he was met with two hands on either side of his face and Misha moving up to kiss him again. It was slightly less awkward, but still awkward.

“That. Was what I was trying to tell you,” Jensen eventually said, still leaning over Misha, half laying in the bed.

Misha’s only response was a blinding smile and another kiss.

“You know that saying, actions speak louder than words?” Misha asked after a while with one of his hands carding through Jensen’s short hair. He’d scooted over and had Jensen lie down beside him, though they ended up laying almost on top of each other instead.

“Mhm,” Jensen hummed into Misha’s neck and arched into his hand. He tightened his hold around Misha and scooted just a little bit closer. It was weird being this close to him already, but he’d think about it more later.

“In your case, I think we should change it to _actions speak more clearly than words_ , because you, sweetheart, couldn’t make up a logical sentence to save your own life.”

“Mm. Shut up and let me sleep,” Jensen whispered and felt himself growing steadily more tired as Misha petted his hair and stroked his back. How come he hadn’t figured this out before now? Nothing was ever going to be better than this.

*******

“If you weren’t as cute as you are, I would’ve kicked your ass straight outta this room,” a voice said and it sounded kind of sharp and soft at the same time, which Jensen knew made no sense at all, but still … He inhaled deeply, smelling nothing but Misha and he smiled; it was a pleasant way to wake up.

“But I will have to ask you to move your butt out of that bed, mister,” the voice said again and he groaned. “Complain all you want, honey, but my patient seems to have melded himself to you and I need y’all to be two separate bodies for just a minute.”

Jensen warily opened one eye and the nurse from yesterday was immediately in his field of vision. Luckily for him, and his bladder, she looked more amused that angry. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered and sat up in the bed, making Misha’s head fall off his chest and land with a soft thud on the mattress.

Misha growled and rubbed at his eyes, “What the fuck is going on in here?” he asked weakly, his hand seeking out Jensen to get him back again, before he frowned and opened his eyes.

“Watch your language, young man! Being in a hospital bed doesn’t give you certain privileges, you know,” she said and shook her head, though there was a little smile on her face. Jensen counted that as a point in their favor, but got out of the bed nonetheless.

“Sorry, Mish,” Jensen half-laughed and ruffled Misha’s hair once he was standing beside the bed and not in it. Misha glared half-heartedly at him, but couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.

“You know you ain’t supposed to be in here,” the nurse – Elanore, her nametag said – and pointed an accusing finger in Jensen’s face.

Jensen blushed and fidgeted nervously on the spot, “Yeah, I-uh-,”

“No, no, no,” she cut him off with a couple of pats on his cheeks and a knowing smile, “You were worried about your boyfriend, I understand, sweetie.” Then she went about and checked everything like she’d done last time.

Jensen flushed even redder at that and cleared his throat as he tried to rub the red color out of his cheeks. He heard Misha chuckling from the bed and turned to narrow his eyes at him. After all, it was just as much Misha’s fault that they got caught sleeping on top of each other when only one of them should be there.

The room was completely filled with silence after that, like they expected to be hit in the head with a spoon if they accidentally said the wrong thing. Jensen felt like he was in school again, when the teachers had had enough and refused them to speak.

“There,” she said with a sigh once she was done. “Everything looks great so you’ll most likely be released today. One of the doctors will be back in a while to take further tests.” She cooed and smiled at Misha and patted his cheek as well for being such a cute and wonderful patient, before sending a blinding smile at them both one last time before walking out of the room.

Jensen was still standing by the side of the bed, afraid that she or someone else would walk right back in the second he sat down beside Misha.

“I like her,” Misha said with a thoughtful expression on his face before he pulled the covers off and turned sideways in the bed. He sat there for a second and wriggled the kinks out of his back and neck before he slowly inched himself off the bed and onto the floor.

“I dunno, she kinda scares me,” Jensen replied and walked over to help Misha who still looked worn-out and tired as hell. “How do you feel?” he asked once he’d gotten Misha to stand up straight with a helping hand on his arm and back.

It felt good to finally be able to touch him and know that it wouldn’t be weird and that Misha felt the same way. Jensen hadn’t realized that the feeling he knew had been swimming about under his skin for who knows how long had been love until yesterday. This thing between them was new and awkward, but bloody awesome.

Misha groaned as he stretched his back again, “The floor is cold.”

Jensen huffed, “I’ll go get you some socks. How are you really feeling?”

“Like the Hulk smashed me down,” he said and leaned into Jensen’s side. “How are _you_ feeling?”

Jensen couldn’t not laugh at that response, “I’m just glad you’re better,” he said and looked down at the floor. It was still hard to believe what had happened and he always got that sick surge of panic whenever he thought about it.

“Me too,” Misha whispered back before he tugged on Jensen’s shirt, “Help me back.” Then he was seated back on the bed, feet hanging off of it like a child. Jensen couldn’t help but smile at the sight and stepped over to sit beside him, ignoring the creaks the bed made as he sat down.

“Ehm,” Jensen said awkwardly after a while and stroked his palms over his thighs. “Are we, you know,” he stopped and made an off-hand gesture with his arm before he stopped and pulled a loose thread off of his jeans instead. He knew what he wanted to ask, but the words were kind of reluctant to leave the tip of his tongue.

“Boyfriends?” Misha finished for him and looked at him, a soft smile on his face. Jensen was glad Misha sounded surer about this than he felt, it calmed him down significantly and he turned back towards Misha and nodded.

He still felt like this situation was too much like middle school, though.

“Do you want to be?” Misha asked again and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes, like he knew that he didn’t really have to ask.

Jensen’s only answer was a kiss which Misha happily returned.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Misha teased after the short kiss before he sneaked his hand up to the side of Jensen’s face to lead him into another one.

They got cut off in the middle of a deeper kiss by a cough from behind them, “Gentlemen,” a man said and Jensen and Misha immediately jerked apart and turned to look at their intruder.

It was the uncle-reminding doctor. “I’m George,” he said and Jensen nodded to himself. “I’m sorry to … interrupt,” his eyes gleamed with a sort of playfulness that Jensen couldn’t help but smile at, and tapped at the file in his hands. This doctor seemed like a really swell guy in difference to Jensen’s thoughts about him during their first meeting.

“But there are still a few tests which I have to perform before I can release you,” he said and looked at Misha and walked closer, looking at his files which he then put down at the edge of the bed.

“Alright,” Misha answered and scooted up so he sat leaning against the headboard. Jensen got off the bed and positioned himself beside Misha. He wanted to hold his hand again like he’d done so much these last few days, but he still felt like he didn’t quite know how to proceed about this, so he just stood there and observed.

“First, I would like you to remove your shirt so I can take a look at the bruising on your chest and the surgical wound on your side,” George said and sat down on the bed and placed his glasses on top of his crooked nose, “If you feel uncomfortable removing it, you could just lift it up.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Misha said and went to take his shirt off, but apparently his muscles were still sore and tender because he had some difficulty lifting it higher than the middle of his ribs. “Jensen,” he huffed and Jensen’s hands quickly shot out to assist him.

“There, let’s have a look,” the doctor muttered to himself as he started to touch the angry bruises on Misha’s chest. They were still blue and purple, and Jensen felt a pang of guilt of having been the one to do that.

“Does that hurt?” he asked and pressed down on them.

“Just feels uncomfortable,” Misha answered.

The doctor nodded and moved his hands over to remove the bandage over the cut. “It’s healing nicely, Misha. The stiches will have to be removed by a nurse or a doctor in a few days, but you’ll be able to go home today,” he informed and smiled at the both of them, like he assumed they were living together. Jensen found himself liking that idea, but worried about it being too soon for that just yet. He’d have to talk to Misha about it anyway, so he dismissed that thought for later.

Misha smiled back and sighed as he let his head hit the wall behind him. Jensen could most definitely understand his feeling about this; being stuck in a hospital bed for three days must be boring as hell.

George asked some more questions and made small-talk while he changed Misha’s bandage and Jensen couldn’t help but like the guy even more when he started talking about Pearl Jam and the show he’d been to a couple of months back.

People always thought Jared was the big Pearl Jam-fan, but in reality, Jensen was just as obsessed about them as he was. He just didn’t pee his pants in excitement the day they met them.

“See you in a few days, Misha,” he said once he was done, “Jensen,” he nodded in Jensen’s direction and Jensen answered with a wave. “Have a good trip home.”

The second the door closed Misha scooted over and Jensen sat down beside him, “He’s kinda awesome.”

Misha concurred, “Yes. Yes he is.”

“He looks so much like Uncle Joe, you have no idea. It’s like he could be his brother, not even kidding,” Jensen said and huffed a disbelieving laugh at the end whilst shaking his head.

Misha just laughed, looked over at him and didn’t say anything to that.

Then the air between them kind of crackled, like their souls reached out to each other and melded together in the space between them. If there could be such a thing of course, Jensen was sure neither of them would’ve believed it if someone had described the feeling to them. Jensen couldn’t say he knew when he started moving, but he was suddenly aware of their noses touching, like eskimo kisses. It was hopelessly romantic, but it made this super-warm thing to glow inside his chest, so he didn’t mind it.

They were still breathing each other’s air when Misha moved the rest of the way and swallowed what little space was left, and pressed his lips against Jensen’s. Misha let out a tiny moan as Jensen parted his lips and brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in Misha’s hair.

Neither knew how long they were kissing, but by the time they parted again, they were both slightly panting.

“Wow,” was all Jensen could think of to say which made Misha laugh and kiss the corner of his mouth again.

They were having one of those soul-bonding moments (that’s what Jensen had decided to call them; the moment before they kissed) when Jensen’s phone rang; a shrill, sharp sound that nearly made them butt their heads together from startling so much.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jensen hissed and hastily pulled his cellphone out of his jeans, wanting that god-awful ringtone to stop as fast as possible.

“Y-hello,” he greeted without seeing who it was first and put his arm around Misha’s shoulders without thinking. Misha leaned into him and seemed to thrive at the affectionate touch, so he just smiled and pulled him closer.

 _“Jensen, I’m so sorry, I fell asleep yesterday so I didn’t hear it if you called,”_ it was Jared and he sounded distressed. Jensen frowned. _“Did you take a cab home? Is everything alright?”_

“It’s fine, dude, no harm done. And actually, I’m still at the hospital. Kinda crashed here,” he laughed awkwardly and his breath hitched when he felt Misha starting to mouth at his neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin.

_“… Really? Are you allowed to do that?”_

Jensen swallowed thickly, but didn’t push Misha away; it felt too good. “Y-yeah, of course, man.” He exhaled deeply through his nose and tried not to moan when Misha’s hand started travelling down his stomach, aiming for the edge of his shirt.

_“Okay, well, do you need me to pick you up?”_

“Awesome,” Jensen whispered and made a sound between a laugh and a groan when Misha started tickling his ribs from under the shirt. “Aah! Yep! Sounds good, just giv-AAH me a call when you get here. Bye.” He quickly hung up and grabbed Misha’s arm to get him to stop.

Misha’s only response was to laugh maniacally in his face, nose and eyes crinkling in obvious delight at Jensen’s reactions.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“I beg to differ,” Misha answered and attacked Jensen’s sides again, earning a manly squeak from the man in question.

“Stop that, I’m serious,” Jensen was going for serious-and-mad, but ended up not being able to hide a grin.

Misha held his hands up and sighed dramatically, “Alright, Mr. Ackles, I’m stopping. You have no sense of humor, we’ll need to work on that.”

Jensen palmed his chest like he’d just been deeply offended, all for show of course, “Hey, I’m funny.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so,” Misha said and kissed Jensen’s cheek before he moved out of the bed again, this time reaching out for the set of clothes Jensen had brought him the other day.

“You need help?” Jensen asked and stepped onto the floor as well. He walked up to his boyfriend – he grinned when he thought that - and helped steady him.

A huff sounded from the other man, “You just want to see me naked,” he said and pulled out the clothes and gathered them in his arms.

“Well, as you told MTV, I _have_ seen you nude before,” Jensen informed and smirked. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I do have a perfect view of your ass through the gap in that piece of paper you’re wearing.”

Misha immediately jumped around and moved one hand to his back as if to feel if it was really open. He straightened and furrowed his brows at Jensen, “There’s no gap, you butt.”

Jensen managed to hold the laugh in, but his face still turned beet red from the doing so.

“Fine, I need your help, but you’re not exactly top-notch boyfriend material right now, Jen,” Misha growled out and led the way into the small bathroom that belonged to the hospital room.

“Sorry then, darlin’,”Jensen laughed and walked Misha into the bathroom. He helped him get that ‘offending shit’ off of Misha, as he called it and then assisted him in putting a pair of sweats and a hoodie back on.

“Ah, that felt good. Can’t wait to go home,” Misha moaned and wriggled his body to show how much he liked being back in his own clothes. “Is Jared coming to pick us up?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Are we going to my place or yours?” Misha asked and as soon as the words left his mouth, he started fidgeting and looked nervous. “I mean, I’m not assuming anything-,”

Jensen decided to shut him up with what he assumed would be the most effective way; kissing him.

Misha made a small sound of surprise before he kissed back. “It’s still kinda weird doing that,” he said looking at Jensen before he grabbed his hand and lead the way out of there.

“What, kissing each other?”

“Yeah.”

Jensen hummed in agreement, “But it’s still nice, though.”

Another kiss was the only reply he got, and it was more than answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> the phrase "did you smoke your socks?" is a norwegian saying - we ask people that when they're behaving weirdly or when they're saying things that doesn't make any sense.


End file.
